front; the other was on the very eve of giving way behind them. If
it fell, they were imprisoned between two impassable walls of sand
and earth. Without one instant's delay, he turned and seized his
companion's hand hastily.

"Quick! quick!" he cried, in a voice of eager warning. "Run, run
for your life to the mouth of the tunnel! Here, come! You've only
just time! It's going, it's going!"

But Elma's feminine instinct worked quicker and truer than even
Cyril Waring's manly reason. She didn't know why; she couldn't say
how; but in that one indivisible moment of time she had taken in
and grasped to the full all the varying terrors of the situation.
Instead of running, however, she held back her companion with a
nervous force she could never before have imagined herself capable
of exerting.

"Stop here," she cried authoritatively, wrenching his arm in her
haste. "If you go you'll be killed. There's no time to run past.
It'll be down before you're there. See, see, it's falling."

Even before the words were well out of her mouth, another great
crash shook the ground behind them. With a deafening roar, the
tunnel gave way in a second place beyond. Dust and sand filled the
air confusedly. For a minute or two all was noise and smoke and
darkness. What exactly had happened neither of them could see.
But now the mouth of the tunnel was blocked at either end alike,
and no daylight was visible. So far as Cyril could judge, they
two stood alone, in the dark and gloom, as in a narrow cell, shut
in with their carriage between two solid walls of fallen earth and